Baby Mine
by Johanna-002
Summary: Three monumental moments in the journey to motherhood, seen from the eyes of Gloria, Marka, and Red. Complete.
1. Gloria

**Title:** Baby Mine

 **Summary:** Three monumental moments in the journey to motherhood, seen from the eyes of Gloria, Marka and Red.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own OITNB or any of its characters. They belong to Jenji Kohen, I do, however, own my writing so please don't steal- Johanna002©

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-01-

"Oh, no, no, no," I kept repeating to myself. "No." This wasn't happening there was no way this could be happening. I looked in the mirror, at my own reflection and began to shake. I picked up the pregnancy test and shook my head furiously.

"No way." I put the stick down. There had to be a mistake. Sometimes these things were known to be unreliable. How many young girls like myself had been plagued with unnecessary angst and panic, just to find out they weren't really pregnant?

I looked at myself once more in the mirror. I gawked at my physique. How had I not noticed how much my body had changed? My breasts were swollen, and huge, nearly two times bigger than what they had been two months ago and suddenly, I couldn't deny the aching and tenderness that they throbbed with. My eyes cast down to my belly, and I could see the slight expansion it had made. It wasn't yet noticeable to the untrained eye, but I now couldn't pull my attention away. My hand, timid and shaky, slowly came down to rest atop of my abdomen. I rubbed slow circles around the flesh and my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

I was pregnant.

If my new ginormous tits, and the hard, small rounding of my belly wasn't enough indication, the fact that my period-which usually arrived like clockwork-was two months past due spoke volumes. My eyes flicked back to the test, the two lines confirming what I already knew.

"Fucking, Chris," I laughed softly. My hand continued its calming motion, rubbing back and forth against the skin of my abdomen.

Christopher Ramirez. My first. We hadn't meant for it to happen, but one night at a party and too many drinks later, we found ourselves involved in a fling we just couldn't end. He had been my best friend my whole life, and it was nice that someone I trusted so much was the one person I had decided to give myself to. We'd grown up together, and nothing had ever felt more right, but there was just one little problem in my sea of current problems. Christopher had a girlfriend. Marisol.

Marisol was a girl I knew well. Christopher and I went to school with her, and because I could only be so lucky, my tia and I lived three doors down from her and her family. Marisol was sweet and beautiful, and she definitely didn't deserve any of the shit that Chris and I had done behind her back.

I fell to my bed, sighing. My hand never left the comfort of my stomach. "Oh, baby," I whisper into the empty room. "What am I going to do?"

Everything about Chris and I, as hot and fun as it was, was wrong. I knew that much and I didn't deny it. I had no clue what his reaction was going to be, or what was going to happen, but some part of me, one I was well aware was foolish and naive, believed that he would marry me. I didn't know how likely that scenario truly was, but we both came from strong religious backgrounds, and an abortion would be out of the question, and a wedding would most likely be demanded by both of our families.

...

I paced up and down the sidewalk, doing my best to occupy the millions of racing thoughts inside my head.

"Gloria!" Chris greeted me with a tight hug and a kiss on the lips "Baby, you look so good," his hands traveled down the side of my body to squeeze my hips possessively. "Are you hungry?"

"Uhh… sure, yea," I nod. "I can eat."

"Good," he flashes me his boyish grin. That fucking grin was the reason I was in this mess, to begin with. I never could quite resist a man with dimples. "I know a little mom and pop restaurant that you will love. It's just a few blocks over."

 _How fitting I think to myself,_ but I don't say that. Instead, I just smile at him and say, "Okay."

The walk was short as he talked about work and the busy day he had. I listened attentively, smiling when I felt him pull me closer to him. It wasn't too much longer until we'd made it to the restaurant and before I knew it, we were sitting in a booth waiting for our food to be brought to our table.

As much as I wanted to pretend there was nothing amiss, and just enjoy his company I couldn't.

"Chris," I say quietly. "I need to talk to you."

His eyes looked at me with great concern. "About what?"

I twist my hands beneath the table, and just as I'm about to speak the waiter comes out with our food. She sets our plates down in front of us and asks us if we need any drink refills and if everything looks correct.

" _Si, Senora,"_ Chris tells her, smiling at her politely as she refills both of our glasses with water. " _Gracias."_ He picks up the salt and pepper and begins to season his enchiladas. He looks at me expectantly as he reaches for his silverware. "What is it, Gloria?"

"I'm pregnant." I swallow nervously.

"No, you aren't" He responds almost immediately. "There's no way. We always used a condom," he whispered.

I bit my lip and shake my head no. "Remember… the park?" I reach for my own silverware and unfold it slowly, placing the napkin in my lap and smoothing it out over my jeans nervously.

"I don't know what to say." He doesn't look angry. He cuts into his enchiladas and takes a bite. He cuts another piece and then lifts his eyes to me again. "A baby?" It's almost as if he's testing the words on his tongue. "You're sure it's mine?"

I want to be offended that he'd even ask me that, but I'm not. He has a girlfriend after all. We never were exclusive. It's only right that he'd be curious. "You're the only one I've been with," I tell him honestly.

"Wow…" He twists his fork in his hand, and an almost proud smile touches his lips. "I put a baby in you?"

"Oh my God, Chris," I can't help but laugh at his reaction. I shake my head and begin to cut into my own plate of enchiladas. I had never expected him to react badly, but I'm more than surprised at how well he's actually taking the news. "What are we going to do?" I ask.

He takes a drink from his cup and shrugs. "What we have to," he tells me. "You're not killing my baby, Gloria."

"There's adoption," I say seriously.

He shakes his head no. "I know we're young," he tells me. "But no. I don't want anyone else raising our baby." He takes a bite of his food, chews, swallows and then reaches for his cup and takes a large drink of his water. "You know my mom is going to want us to get married," he says. "Lourdes too, probably."

I sink against the booth. The thought of having to tell Lourdes that I'm pregnant is the most frightening thing I could ever imagine. "She's going to kill me, Chris."

He chuckles. "I don't think my girlfriend is going to take the news well, either."

"Maybe this baby will be better than us," I say hopefully. He doesn't respond but reaches across the table for my hand. I squeeze his tightly, interlocking our fingers. A lesser man would have walked out and probably screamed at me to get an abortion, but that was one of the reasons I had always been so attracted to Chris. He was different from any guy I had ever know. He wasn't a saint, but instead of making himself a victim, he owned his shit. We both did.

We were far from perfect, and neither of us pretended to be. We both had done things we weren't proud of, but we never shied away from the blame. We owned our responsibility and we didn't make excuses for situations that we created. If there was nothing else our parents could say about us, they could at least say that. Telling them wouldn't be easy, but knowing that I had him to depend on made the prospect of having to come clean to Lourdes just a little less scary.

...

Lourdes is surprisingly calm. Too calm. So calm, that I'm petrified. I'm waiting for her to scream, for her to throw something- hell, for her to hit me. I need her to react. Her silence is as maddening and it is uncomfortable.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I can't believe that's my voice. I couldn't believe that it is sounded so calm, despite the fact that I was a nervous wreck inside.

My tia blinks, her brown eyes piercing mine, demanding my silence almost instantly. In a move that I'm not expecting she approaches me where I am sitting at the edge of her bed. She kneels down onto her knees and takes my hands into her own.

"Gloria," Her voice is soft, but I can hear the shakiness that she's trying to conceal. "Baby, you are so young. You're only sixteen."

"I know," I whisper.

Her eyes are nothing but pools of disappointment and I know I've broken her heart with my news, but she doesn't turn away from me. "You have options," she pulls my hands to her lips and kisses my fingers. "You don't have to do this, you know?"

I'm surprised that she's even suggesting an abortion, and I immediately shake my head no. I feel the tears stream down my face, and she pulls me from the bed to join her on the floor. She's holding me and stroking my hair.

"I'm not saying you have to," she whispered against my temple. "I just want you to know that it's an option. That I will love you no matter what. Okay?"

I can hear the fast and heavy drumming of her heart and my eyes cloud with more tears.

"I mean it when I say the decision is yours." She's crying harder than I am because she knows just how much I will be sacrificing, and she knows how much harder my life is going to become. Her hands stroke my hair as I begin to lose myself and sob into her shoulder.

She rocks me softly, her hands running soothingly over my head and down the length of my hair, " _Mi Amor,"_ she coos against my ear, "Oh, baby… why did you have to go and try and grow up so fast?"

I didn't have an answer for her, only tears.


	2. Marka

-02-

I thought I was past that stage in my pregnancy where none of my clothes fit properly, but evidently not. It seemed there were many, many of those stages. I sigh heavily as I look in the mirror. My breasts were becoming too large for my bras, my shirt didn't pull all the way over my growing belly and my pants rubbed painfully against me, leaving my skin raw and irritated.

"Les!" I hollered. I walked out of our master bedroom and across the hall to his office. "Les,"

Looking up at me from he sits behind his large desk, he holds up his hand as a means of silencing me. He angles his head toward the receiver of the phone he is holding and he smiles boyishly. "I did enjoy seeing you," he says evenly. "No I think it went really well, and both of our clients will mutually benefit from this arrangement." I watch as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. "No problem, Maryanne," he says. "I'm sure we'll be speaking again very soon. Bye-bye."

He hangs up the phone and reclines back in his chair. He smiles at me, eyes darkening lustfully as his gaze travels down to the eight-and-a-half month pregnant belly I'm sporting. "The mother of my child," he beckons me. "The love of my life. How can I help you today, my Gorgeous?"

"Nothing fits me," I pout as I walk over toward him.

He stands up and his hands immediately seek out my belly. "That's the baby, she's growing," he tells me wisely. He rubs his hand in a soothing motion beneath my shirt and kisses my forehead. "If you help me clean up this office, I'll take you shopping," he promises.

I agree and begin to help him straighten up his desk. His cell phone begins to ring and one look at the caller I.D he excuses himself for a brief minute to take the call in the hallway. He pulls the door shut behind him and I don't think much of it, not until I try open the very bottom drawer in his desk. But it won't come open. It's locked.

Looking up at the door, I narrow my eyes at the fancy, expensive wood angrily. After the last time, we had agreed no more secrets. No more locked doors or locked desks. If we didn't have trust in this marriage, then what did we have? I open the other drawers, of his desk, rummaging around for a key, but I don't see one.

In a matter of seconds, Les is back. He doesn't mention what his phone call was about, just joins me again and wraps his arms around around me from behind. His breath is hot on my neck as his hands eagerly craddle my swollen abdomen.

"Is she kicking?" He asks.

As if on cue, a ripple moves across my abdomen and he is so excited that he spins me around and pushes me down into his office chair.

"Marka!' He gasped, looking at me for reassurance of what he had just felt. "She's really in there, isn't she?" he whispered in amazement.

"Hi, baby," he cooes, rubbing his hand in a circular motion. Les lifts his to smile at me as our child kicks wildly in response. "Do you have any room in there?" He asked, "Bet you're getting pretty cramped. Is your momma treating you okay? I told her to lay off the sugar. You're going to come out talking a mile a minute, if not running."

I rolled my eyes, and draped my swollen hands over my stomach to cover his. "I can't help it," I confess. "She's draining me of all my energy."

"Then you need to eat healthier, not junk food," Les reprimands me lovingly. "I'm serious, Marka."

"I'm serious too, she likes oatmeal pies," I informed him. "The little debbie kind, the ones that leave your fingers greasy, you know? Other then that she-"

"No, other than that you can eat vegetables. Try broccoli or carrots. She'll thank you in the long run."

I sighed softly and look down at the locked drawer at the bottom of his dance. "Will she?" I ask worriedly. It was no secret how dysfunctional our home was. "My diet may be the least of her worries."

"We do the best we can," he tells me, as if able to read my mind. "One day she will appreciate how hard we work, even if it takes her a while to understand it."

"Are we?" I ask. "Are we doing the best that we can?"

He doesn't answer with words, but rises to his feet and offers me his hand. "Let's get out of here," He suggests.

That afternoon, after an expensive shopping excursion, found us at a nearby park. Sitting at one of the picnic tables, we unpack the lunch we'd bought earlier from a little hole in the wall Russian market. Les and I lost ourselves in the young children who were running on the playground.

"That's going to be me," I say as I watch a young mother pushing her child on a swing. "That woman there, with the red hair," I point to the heavily pregnant woman who's pushing a little boy around two years old.

Les smiles as me. "Or her," he says pointing to the young girl breastfeeding her baby on a park bench.

"That's just sad," I say as I watch her. "She can't be older than seventeen, Les. What if that's our daughter one day? What if that's Nicky?"

I placed a protective hand over my swollen belly. I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, and each day brought with it excitement and sadness. I wanted nothing more than to hold my child in my arms, but when I saw things like that, it scared me. I didn't want her to grow up so fast, or so bitter. I wanted her to have a beautiful and wonderful life. I wanted her to be safe and educated, and I knew from my own experiences that there was no safer place for my baby to be than inside of me, and it made me never want this pregnancy to end.


	3. Red

-03-

The one thing I could picture all through my pregnancy was a face. It seemed like the most amazing mystery I had ever solved. I didn't know what I was going to do, or how I was going to do it. I didn't even have a name picked out, but I could see a face so small and delicate, yet devastatingly delicious. There were kicks, and squirms and tiny hiccups that I could feel reverberating through my entire core. I was completely and utterly, viscerally connected to the tiny life growing inside of me.

I worried about the fact that I already had two small children and I didn't know how I was going to manage a third. I was starting to doubt that I had done the right thing by adding another mouth to feed to our family. I didn't know we would make it or how I would be able to divide my time up faily between three children, and I started to doubt that I would successfully be the kind of mother that I wanted to, now that my times was going to be stretched so thin.

A little voice inside of me fought to reason that I did know something- I loved my baby. I did the best I could to make sure I had a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby. I protected my child's wellbeing at every turn, no matter the cost to my personal suffering.

...

His birth began on a Saturday morning and labor had felt as if someone were ruthlessly pounding a sledgehammer into the lower half of my body every twenty minutes for hours on end. I had to wander the apartment and lean on things and process the pain with groans and grim facial expressions.

In between one of the contractions Dmitri had encouraged me to eat a bit of Zefir- a delicious concoction of whipping fruit and berry puree- a new recipe that we'd been working on. I ate it, grateful for the relief it had afforded me, but then, I had a contraction and heaved it up.

You never think that you can stand enormous amounts of pain and there's a piece of you that thinks you won't be able to survive childbirth, but you can. It's is a rough business, and it hurts, but it's survivable.

I walked up and down the cold cement stairs of the apartment complex and did squats and lunges. I lounged in the tub and vomited every time I so much as took a sip of water. I laughed with my young children as they tried to occupy my mind. I tried to concentrate on the candles my husband had lit for me and I stared at the framed photograph of my dead mother that he propped next to them, trying to channel her to make me strong.

When I had a contraction my entire body would be instantly flooded with sweat. The heat that consumed me was unbearable. Then, as soon as the contraction ended, I'd be freezing cold, shivering violently until the next round began again. My husband and mother-in-law were my strength. They were the ones who pulled my robe off and put it back on according to my body temperature. They tried to convince me to sip the water I'd later retch up.

"Irina is going to take the babies," My mother-in-law tells me as she rubs my back. "We should probably head to the hospital soon, no?"

I nod, gritting my teeth through the next wave of contractions that hits. I had never been more grateful for my mother and sister-in-law than I felt in that moment, and as much as I wanted to kiss my two boys goodbye before I left to give birth, I couldn't make myself move.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"You don't have to think me."

I know how much she means those words, but I don't think she realizes how much they truly mean to me. Since coming to America we have stuck close together and it was empowering to feel the love that I felt for her, and that I knew she felt for me. A lot of what Dmitri and I had been able to accomplish, as humble of beginnings as it was, was all thanks to her and her support.

...

I prayed to be out of this misery, to muster up the courage to do whatever I had to do for the baby to be born soon. I felt entirely at the mercy of the birth as if I'd lost any sense of who I was outside of this. As if there was no me outside of this.

"Oh, Galina!" my mother in law's voice is high pitched from the tears of joy that she is crying. "You're almost there! You're almost there!"

I could feel the head of my child finally break from the comfort and safety of my body. I was on fire, but I felt so incredibly strong and invincible. With the next contraction that overtakes me I push, and I can feel the body of my child leave me completely.

"A boy!" Dmitri exclaims excitedly

His mother is in tears. "It's a boy!" She's smiling from ear to ear. "It's a boy!"

I can't stop my own tears of happiness. "A boy," I repeat. I had a son. I can feel the doctor tie off the umbilical cord and I remember seeing the proud smile on my husband's face as he got to cut the umbilical cord.

"Is he okay?" I ask when I hear the loud and shrill cries and whimpers emit from his new little body.

"He's perfect." My mother-in-law reassures me as she watches over the nurses who are cleaning and swaddling my precious bundle.

In the next second, I see twenty-one inches of perfection with the lightest brown hair being held up above me so that I could witness the beautiful and unique profile of him. Tentatively, I reached my hand out to touch him, and as his little hand wraps tightly around my finger. I feel my breath leave me instantly. I knew I would never ever forget the moment of our first touch. He was so warm and alive.

"Take him," My husband encourages me. I did, my hands shaking wildly as I clasped my baby's seven-pound, four-ounce frame. I brought him down to my chest and as soon as his skin touched mine I became more fearless and fearful than I ever thought I could be. It was an overwhelming feeling of love. I felt that he had always been here; that he had always been a part of me.

"Hi, baby," my voice was incredibly shaky as my hands soothingly began to caress the new tiny human that had been laid on top of my chest. "Happy Birthday."

I lost myself in him. He curled into me, and I instantly fell in love; it felt as if a bolt of lightning had stuck between us- the connection was instant. I felt the bed dip and I looked over to see my mother in law sitting next to me. She was in a complete state of awe as she peeked another look at my child.

"He's so beautiful, Galina," Her voice cracked slightly.

I smiled softly and played with her small hands. "All ten fingers," I said gently, my hands stroked along the expanse of his back, and down the length of his tiny leg, coming to rest at the most beautiful little feet. I chuckled as my little baby scrunched up, pulling his feet away from me at the ticklish sensations that my fingers made against his soles. "All ten toes." I kissed him. "You're absolutely perfect."

"Can I hold him?" I turned my head at the sound of my husband's voice.

I reluctantly relinquished our son into his arms and I tried not to break down at the immediate love I saw in his eyes. So many times he had looked at me that same way, and it was surreal to see him fall so immediately in love with someone who hadn't even been in the world an hour.

He stroked his head and commented on how much hair he had. "Your brother's didn't have nearly this much."

"Must get it from Galina's side of the family," My mother joked as she stroked my thick hair out of my face. "What are we going to name him?" She asks.

Dmitri places our son back into my arms and I smile down at him, stroking my finger across his forehead and down his cheek, and over his little pink lips. "Vasily," I say strongly. "His name is Vasily."


	4. Ten Years Later

_A/N: The final chapter. Takes place ten years later._

-04-

"Happy Valentines Day, _moya lyubov',_ " Dmitri greeted his wife with a kiss on her cheek and smiled as she turned around to face him.

"Roses?" Galina asked curiously, her lips curving upward in a smile. She took the glass vase from her husband's hands, and inhaled the beautiful red roses deeply. "Thank you." She placed the vase on the counter and touched her finger along the delicate petals gently. "We don't normally celebrate Valentine's day, what made you do this?" 

"I celebrate Valentines Day," Dmitri corrected his wife. He walked around her to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Since when?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Since always," he reached for another cup and poured her one as well. "I was thinking we could go out tonight and celebrate?"

"Who is going to watch the boys?" She asked curiously.

"No one. Galina, they're almost teenagers," Dmitri admonished her. "They'll be fine for a few hours. We haven't had a date night in years," he said gently as he pour sugar into their cups. "I thought you would enjoy this."

She took her cup from him and leaned against the counter top. "Where did you want to go?"

"Italian?" He suggested. "There's that new place a couple of blocks over."

Taking a sip of her coffee, Galina nodded her head. "I guess that will be okay. I have a few errands to run today, what time did you want to leave?"

"The owner knows Ganya, I've worked with him a few times. I'll give him a call and see if we can get a reservation for seven-thirty."

Downing the rest of her coffee, Galina put her cup down in the sink and grabbed her purse from the table. "I have to get down and open the store, but it's date."

"No, here," Dmitri reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out three hundred dollars. "Run your errands and buy something for tonight. Go get your hair done or something, I'll open the store."

"Where did you get this money from?"

"Don't worry about it," he shushed her. "Just go, enjoy your day." He placed the money into her hand and kissed her cheek as he walked past her. "I'll see you tonight, Galina."

…

"What about this?"

"What about what?" Gloria asked distractedly as she single handedly surfed the clothing rack.

"This, it'll look great on you babe."

Lifting her head up, she rolled her eyes at the negligee her ex-husband was holding up. "Chris," she sighed. "We're supposed to be shopping for real clothes, not that."

"I still think it'll look great on you."

"In your dreams," she muttered. "I still haven't dropped the baby weight. Everything still feels too tight except for my maternity jeans, and they're irritating my incision."

"You're being too hard on yourself, Gloria," he told her gently. "You didn't even give birth a month ago." He placed the negligee back and walked around to join his ex-wife. "Four kids later and I'm still crazy about you, you know?"

"Mm-hmm," she shook her head as she adjusted her newborn son in her arms. "Is that why you divorced me?"

"If memory serves me right, you're the one who left me."

"Why would I ever do a thing like that?" She grasped the handle of the stroller in her free hand, and began to push it as they made their way out of the store and into the main area of the mall. "Did you see which way Lourdes went?"

"She said she was going to take Julio and the girls to get some jeans," Chris told her. "I gave her some money to get them lunch, but maybe they haven't eaten yet, we can get something when we leave."

Gloria sighed. "Why didn't you go with her? You know I don't like her buying things for the kids, she does enough for us as it us."

"I offered her my card, but she didn't want it. She said she won a couple hundred dollars last night at bingo."

"Of course she did," Gloria chuckled. As the baby in her arms began to squirm and whine, she directed them through the crowd of people waiting outside a smoothie stand, and took a seat at a corner table so that she could tend to her baby.

Knowingly, she reached into the diaper bag for a receiving blanket and draped it over her shoulder, before releasing her breast so that her son could nurse. Sore from the constant attention her newborn regularly sought from her, she bit her lip painfully and tried to settle back and relax.

"Is it cool if I stay over tonight?" Chris asked her. "I want to go with you to Julio and Benny's appointment tomorrow after we drop the girls off at school."

Gloria smiled at him and nodded. On and off since high school, no matter what happened between them, Chris had always been consistent and present for the kids.

"When we leave here, I want to stop by this bakery I found the other day."

"Yea? Where at?" Gloria asked as she lifted the blanket away from herself to check on her baby. She traced her finger across his chin, smiling down at him as his hand pushed greedily against her breast.

"Some Russian place," he told her. "I found it on my lunch break the other day."

"Russian?" Gloria wrinkled her nose.

"Don't knock it before you try it, babe. You don't know what you're missing."

…

Holding the door open, Marka bit back a smile as her daughter continued to ramble on and on. Ever since she'd picked her up from school that afternoon, Nicky had been talking non-stop.

"What are we here for again?" Nicky asked as she walked alongside her mother.

"Your dad and I used to come here a lot," Marka told her as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I thought we could surprise him with a dessert for after dinner tonight." She smiled at the older couple she passed and moved to stand at the back of the line.

"Do you think they have chocolate covered strawberries?" Nicky asked as she rocked onto her tiptoes to peek into the display case.

"I would think so, but I'm not sure," Marka answered her. She trailed her fingers distractedly through the curly ends of Nicky's strawberry ends as she squinted up at the menu posted on the back wall.

"Is dad going to be home tonight?" Nicky asked curiously as she picked at the hem of her school skirt.

"Yes, darling," Marka answered her passionately. She angled her body toward her daughter and gripped her chin firmly in her hand, forcing Nicky to meet her eyes. "Everything's okay," she reassured her. "You know that right?"

Nicky blinked at her and sighed. "You two have been fighting a lot," she said quietly.

"Your dad's been working late," Marka explained. "I just don't want him to forget that he needs to put as much into his family as he does to his firm."

"So… You're not going to get a divorce?"

Marka sighed and forced a sad smile onto her face. "It's Valentine's Day, Nicole," she tucked a curly lock of hair behind her ear and tugged playfully at the diamond stud in her ear. "Let's think happy things, okay? Your dad loves us, he loves you and I love you, and that will never change."

As the customer in front of them left, Marka guided Nicky to the counter and placed her hands on her shoulders. She smiled politely at the red-headed woman who was standing on the other side of the counter and said, "We'll take a dozen Syrniki if you have it."

Nicky looked up at her mother expectantly. "Ma…"

"You're a big girl, Nicole," she told her gently. "Ask her if you want something."

"What can I get for you, little girl?" The red-headed woman asked her gently as she leaned across the counter on her elbows. "Ponchick? Chocolate Salami?"

"Salami?" Nicky made a face and shook her head. "Do you have chocolate covered strawberries?"

The woman smiled at her. "I think I have a few left in the fridge. How many do you want?"

"A dozen," Marka answered.

"No," Nicky objected vocally. "We'll take whatever you have left." She turned her head to look over her shoulder at her mother and smiled. "We have to give something to Paloma, too."

Marka sighed, but nodded her agreeance. "Fine," she reached into her purse and pulled out her card. "We'll take all the chocolate covered strawberries that you have and the Syrniki."

…

"Hi, boys," Galina greeted her sons as she wrapped up the last of the strawberries. "What are you three up to? I haven't seen much of you today. Where is your father?"

"Arguing on the phone. Trying to get a reservation," Yuri told her.

"We went with _Baba_ to get flowers," Vasily told his mother. "She said it'd help, and that girls like flowers."

Galina smiled. "Is your grandmother here too?"

"She's asking Papa why he didn't buy her flowers," Maxsim laughed.

"I thought you said he was on the phone?" Red frowned.

"He is," Vasily answered. "She is talking in his ear and he keeps trying to walk away."

Laughing, Galina put the finishing touches on the order she was working on. The sound of the door's bell rang out through the store and she gestured with a nod of her head for her boys to follow her back onto the main floor.

"Hello," she greeted the large, Hispanic family that just walked in. "I'll be with you in just a minute." Handing the wrapped package to Vasily, she pointed him in the direction of her customer and said, "Drop this off to them, and take both of them a flower, okay?"

Vasily did as was asked, and Red couldn't help but smile at the look of surprise that flickered across the young girl's face. She seemed almost hesitant to accept the yellow rose, but one approving nod from her mother telling her it was okay and she did. She couldn't have been much older than her son, and the sight of her little boy being such a gentleman was both heartwarming and overwhelming.

"You boys go pass those flowers out to those ladies there," Galina said quietly as she pushed Yuri and Maxsim onto the floor. She smiled at the gentleman waiting at the counter and said, "how can I help you?"

…

Gloria smiled as her eldest daughter leaned her head on her shoulder. "Are you tired, Selena?"

Selena nodded. She reached her hand out to hold her little brother's and smiled as his whole hand wrapped around her index finger. "We have been out all day," she said quietly.

"It's not even six, silly girl." Gloria kissed her head and wrapped her arm tightly around her shoulder. "I can't believe you're already ten." She looked down to her son and sighed. "I remember when you used to be this small."

" _Mami,"_ Reina, her second oldest sighed from where she sit across the table next to her Tia Lourdes. " _Mami_ are you going to start crying again?" She asked. "You cry a lot now, like the baby."

"Not me," Julio popped up from where he sat on his Tia Lourdes' lap. He waved his Spider-Man toy in the air. "I don't cry."

"Well," Chris said as he approached the table, interrupting them . "She's out of chocolate covered strawberries but I promise you'll like the Vatrushkas."

"I wanted a Sopapilla," Reina complained.

"Yea, well," Chris grabbed a chair from an empty table and took a seat. "You don't always get what you want. You'll like this though, _mija,_ I promise."

Gloria had to bite back a smile at the look of annoyance that flickered across her child's face. She feared for the karma that would sure rain down on her, as every day she saw more and more of herself in her children.

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

Looking up, she smiled at the two little boys who had suddenly appeared at their table. "This is for you," the older one said as he hand Gloria and Selena red roses.

"This is for you," the youngest one handed Lourdes a white rose and then handed Reina a pink one. "And that is for you."

"That is so sweet," Lourdes cooed.

"Thank you," Gloria smiled at the boys as she brought her flower up tp her face so that she could inhale its scent. She nudged Selena while at the same time Chris nudged Reina. "What do you say?" She asked her girls.

"Thanks," both girls echoed, blushes spreading hotly over their faces.

"Here you go, sir."

Chris turned take the package from the shop owners hands and smiled at her. "Thank you."

…

Dmitri sighed as he walked up behind his wife. "Rain check?" He asked gently.

Galina looked over her shoulder at him and nodded her head softly. "So, we aren't going to dinner tonight?"

"I'm sorry," He apologized. "I should have made a reservation earlier."

"It's okay," Galina said as she looked out across her store.

The mother and daughter who had come in earlier were immersed in their own world as the conversed back and forth. The large family who had entered was crowded together, the parents doting and attentive to both each other and their children. As her own boys made their way back to her, she opened her arms to envelop them in a hug.

"This is enough," she said softly as she squeezed her boys tightly. "This is more than enough,


End file.
